Flatscans
by fyrewoode
Summary: In the quest for equality for mutants, and peace for all, Xavier chooses an unlikely ally to help bring about a greater understanding. "It's a dark world out there and we can never forget what we're fighting for."
1. Flatscans

For a long time I'd just stared at the posters. I daydreamed mostly about some way to escape my own mundane life. Each day, I'd stand on the platform, waiting for my train and just stare at the billboard.

It was a pretty picture. The newer ones had a picture of that Magnet guy all done up like a circus freak. Mine was pretty old so it only had the text. Calling it an advertisement seemed inappropriate. It was more of a call, a beckoning, more like the posters of Uncle Sam pointing out people who should enlist for World War I.

When the posters first came out, most people ignored it. They felt so safe in their little bubbles that no mutant could possibly live in their neighborhood. But then Kylie Morse changed one day and turned her living room into the surface of the sun. Nobody but whoever survived the fire knows what happened. Maybe it was arson, maybe not. But when the smoke cleared and ash settled, no body could be found. Some one said that they heard arguing before the flames started. The Morse house wasn't exactly a stable one.

What was once a nice quiet neighborhood soon became a whole other matter. Now self-appointed 'civil enforcers' roamed the streets. They claimed to be deputies of the MRD but their tactics were such that MRD wouldn't publicly admit to it. Graffiti, trash, and bars on every window soon became staples of the area. Now very un-safe, even friends and families eyed each other with suspicion and fear. The whole nation was rife with it. A number of people had moved, either to escape discovery of a real mutation, or to run away from witch-hunt accusations. The neighborhood watch handed out lists of names of suspected mutants. Nobody dared cross the little street thugs anymore, not with one phone call to the MRD standing between you and a collar.

These same thugs had noticed me staring on many occasions and tried to mess with me. I got back in their faces the first time and told them I was just looking at a picture of a pretty beach. There were enough calm faces around, watching, that they took me at my word. But I should have known, nobody who stands up to bullies gets left alone for very long.

First time they jumped me, I was confused. I didn't know what was happening so I was more vulnerable to the attack.

"Mutie-lover."

I was just plain angry the second time.

I wanted it then. The change. The mutation. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. With some real power, I could give those guys a run for their money. Really give them a reason to hate me. Hours spent researching how to jump-start it, when it happens, why it happens, what could happen. I found tons of information, a lot of if bunk, but enough facts to get the picture.

It was never going to happen to me. I'm twenty-three years old, way past puberty, and I've been in more life-threatening, heightened emotional stress moments than I care to admit to.

Because of all my research, I began picking up on things I wouldn't have seen before. Passing people on the subway, on the street, everyone tries to keep their head down and blend in. I'll admit, the first couple of times I thought I finally found a mutant, I was sorely mistaken. As much as I was trying, I still had some stereotypical generalizations of who mutants were, what they looked like or wore. And then, on top of that, you can't out somebody you just blew across at a falafel stand.

The first real mutant I saw was running for his life down Broadway. I know for a fact this was a mutant, ordinary as he could be given the circumstances, because the MRDs were in hot pursuit. They collared him right in front of everybody. His eyes just went from terrified to glazed as the sedative kicked in. MRDs threw him carelessly into the back of the hummer and everyone kept their heads down and ignored the whole event. But there was one or two others who watched the car drive off and I wasn't smart enough to avoid being spotted by more learned eyes. I couldn't even figure out that I was being followed afterwards.

"Are you a mutant?" He asked when he finally made a move.

"What?" I played dumb, not hard. I was scared and surprised at his eagerness.

"I am. I do fire. What do you do?"

"You _do_ fire?"

"Yeah, I'm a pyro."

"Being a 'pyro' doesn't make you a mutant. Leave me alone." Later on I figured out that he meant 'pyrokinetic'.

"You're not a mutant?"

"That's none of your business." I tried to walk away but he jumped in front of me.

"I think it is." More voices joined in. Unfortunately for me, it was a 'civil enforcer' gang of the genetically enhanced persuasion. One girl with purple hair smiled around multiple mouth piercings and her fingers crackled with electricity. "If you're one of us, you should help out your own kind. We stick together. Safety in numbers and all that."

"I don't want to get involved."

"Everybody's _involved_. Either you're a mutant, one of us. Or you're one of them, flatscans. It's wired into your DNA."

"I'm not picking sides."

"Oh, we're not asking. What's your power, sweetness? We could use a psyke but another elemental would be just fine."

"I'm not anything. I'm nothing."

Understanding dawned on their faces, followed quickly by rage.

"You're one of them, huh? Well, we'll show you what happens to those that mess with our turf."

It was neither beneficial or possible to point out that I wasn't challenging anyone's turf, hadn't impersonated a mutant, or asked to join their little brotherhood. Instead, I found out that an electrical conductor's energy levels are directly related to the emotion she is currently feeling. Sparky really didn't like flatscans. Her fists told me so.

Took me a week to de-frizz my hair.

_I guess you're beginning to wonder what I'm doing, still standing here staring at this sign._ Why, after getting mixed up with both sides, can I not just keep my head down and shuffle along with the rest of the flatscans? Well, personally, I just don't like being told what to do. And secondly, I don't believe the Magnet guy.

He says that Genosha is a paradise, a Utopia. But that just makes me not trust him, all the more.

He says 'equality', but do you know if humans, flatscans, would be welcome in Genosha? Is there a human on earth that he even likes? Because a man that declares himself 'Homo Superior' is setting someone up to be the 'inferior'.

Disgusted, I look down at my shoes. With all this hate flying around, its no wonder things are as bad as they are. If it's not them, it's us. Always, one or the other! Because, there will always be 'one' or the 'other' until somebody can rise above it all and show some compassion.

_That's what I want to do. I want to show some compassion._ The revelation of my own personal epiphany raises my head again though my eyes are lost in the wilderness of my own mind.

_I know that a great many of you can't pass for normal. I can be your public face: groceries, communication, and, most importantly, an understanding friend. I just need to be given the chance._

_So, yes. I will keep staring at this poster. I will most likely keep being in the wrong place at the wrong time until I finally find some place that I belong._

_I will keep standing here…_

Which is when I discovered I was sitting. In the back of a limo, nonetheless.

"Hello, Evie. My name is Charles Xavier. I have a job for you."

_A/N: just a one shot for now. More later, maybe. I've been thinking about this char for a longtime and the only way to really get it down was to step inside her head. I'm really not comfortable with first person so we'll see how this all works out, writing-wise. _


	2. Sleepers

It was easy with Xavier. He always understood what I couldn't say. Of course, it helped that he was a powerful telepath. But still, you can listen to someone's inner monologue (if you just happen to be a telepath) for years and still be completely baffled by it. My guess is that it had more to do with heart than brain. Jean and Xavier could have hour-long chats in the space of a moment, their every movement in sync and balanced by the other. That only works if they're both headed the same direction. Neither led, neither followed but they were halves of a whole.

I was baffled when Jean started talking about a boyfriend. How could a non-psyke even compete with the intimacy between Grey and Xavier? I mulled this over as Jean first dove into my head. She was surprised and amused, embarrassment having long faded.

Jean Grey erected impregnable shields around my consciousness. Aside from her self and Charles, no psyke could get a fix on me. Only the most obvious emotions would be visible and then only to the eye. Charles taught me how to recognize when someone was pressing up against the shielding, though what exactly I could do about that was beyond me. Turns out Charles had a plan for that as well. It just took some time for me to realize that he wasn't just talking to me. He was training me.

He had hopes that I could fill a teaching position at the Institute. I'd been a regular old third grade teacher before and a very few mutants activated at that age. In any case, the Institute needed a constant eye when things got hairy for the X-Men and even Xavier was hoping to spend some time in Washington in the near future to lobby for mutant rights.

The first time I saw the school, it was bustling with activity. Kids everywhere: screaming, laughing, talking, playing, working. It was straight to the Danger Room for me. I spent days on end in Level 1 Self Defense before I could even keep my feet for long. Even having Jean walk me through the movements in my own head couldn't help me. I'd like to say I graduated but…

Xavier had sent me on a few 'scouting' missions, recruiting students. Charles liked doing those himself but so many were popping up that he had to delegate. As a show of good confidence, Charles had sent me to a little Southern church in Louisiana one Sunday evening. Everything was nice and dandy until the 'deliverance' segment started up. A group of frenzied adults began to pray for two frightened children. They attempted to 'cast out the Devil's work' from the young mutants. Their behavior made those kids hate who they were. Full of self-loathing, neither accepted Charles' offer but he was able to warn social services and school counselors to keep an eye out for them. They continued on, adamant that God would take it all away and they could be normal, only to grow more desolate and suicidal over time.

It was like watching a train wreck in gruesome HD slow-mo, unable to look away and not wanting to see where it stopped. I was constantly being reminded that life isn't kind or fair to anyone so I shouldn't count myself as alone.

And then, when it happened… When it looked like Jean and Charles were dead in an attack, everyone scattered and went to ground. Children, scared and mourning, made their way back to their homes, if they still had one. Others stuck together in small gangs rather than face the streets alone. The X-Men vanished, each looking out for their interests, disillusioned and hopeless.

Because I'd left everything from my previous life behind, all I had left was what Charles had given me. One of the many things was a blackberry-styled device that was connected to Cerebro, which I had soon learned controlled everything at the Institute from security and defense to the temp in the freezer. Charles gave me access to most of the files in the system: records, logs, profiles and stats on known mutants, affiliations, resources, lists of trusted contacts, and all endlessly updated by Cerebro itself.

Somehow I still had my little blackberry and I kept exploring all the files available to me: safe houses, Danger Room vid files and stats, probability engines, and some project called 'Destiny'. 'Destiny' was the most extensive and complex aspect of the database. Once I found it, I was able to access extended files on all the profiles, everyone from Charles, himself, to non-mutant players like Warren Worthington II and Senator Kelly. Sometimes it seemed to change based on events that never happened or seemed to be inevitable. There were alternate versions of everybody with different histories and alignments. It seemed logical to me that some kind of pre-cog had access to the same device and was constantly updating information. Five possible futures existed for Bobby Drake alone, and each one of them was an incredible journey.

'Destiny' wasn't the only incredible thing about the Cerebro network. Beasts' current personal notes and experiment logs were available within minutes of their entry, though it took me weeks to learn enough about genetics to understand a tenth of it. Wolverine's position came up on a map along the Canadian border. And Bobby Drake's FaceSpace page was updated almost hourly (that kid had no life out side of the X-Men).

That was how Sage found me. Each device had a means of being located and even destroyed over distances. I guess my name was listed in a 'Sleeper' list of contacts and Sage, being a walking computer, had no problems tracking me down to give me a job.

She'd been working with the Morlocks for a few months but then she received a call for help and had to run, leaving the Morlocks, a sewer-dwelling community of mutants, without a 'face'.

Some Morlocks were incapable if hiding their physical mutations and others were so widely sought as terrorists and criminals. They required someone the MRDs wouldn't look at twice to run communications, supplies, and interference on the upper levels of the city. Sage left me in the care of Callisto and was gone in a trice.

Now, Morlocks, are greatly distrustful of 'plain-faced' mutants who get to walk openly in the sun and even each other, much less a flatscan like me. It was only by Sage and Xavier's recommendation that I was even allowed to see their world. Not that there was really much to see.

The Morlocks weren't very cooperative with each other. It was more a group of gangs sharing a squat. Callisto had battled her way to leader and every day after that had been a battle too. Working together was a matter of diplomacy, blackmail, threats, and extortion to keep ahead of the others. I compiled all of this onto the existing data on the Morlocks.

I don't think I have to mention how I was treated. Callisto couldn't watch over me every minute. Not that she cared enough to concern herself with my health as long as I could perform my job. I 'fell' and 'ran into walls' a lot. But, the upside, I did manage to pick up some skills and a certain artfulness with a blade. Living with brutes and thugs can do that.

All together, I spent six months with them. It seemed like twice that and felt like an eternity. Callisto had fallen from the height of her power and, while trying to reconsolidate, she left me out to dry. My status was mockingly called 'pet' and her position was jeopardized by her guardianship of me. Her only option was to 'put the cat out.' It was so strange to pack up my bag and flee as though I'd done something horrible. At least Callisto had the decency to give me a head start. On second thought, it was probably just good sportsmanship for my 'disability', i.e. lack of any special talent.

When I finally had a moment to breathe in the clear morning air, I input my new homeless status into my Cerebro file. I really don't know why, I just couldn't think of what to do next. Imagine my shock when I got an IM from an unknown source informing me that I had a ticket on the next train to Westchester.

It occurred to me, as I took in the stares and reproachful glares, that I might not make the best impression at the newly rebuilt X-Mansion. While living with the Morlocks, I'd lost a lot of weight due to the impoverished conditions. My clothes hung off me like rags and I looked like I'd been homeless for years rather than just a few hours. Regardless of this, I felt content. I was happy the house and the X-Men were back together. I was determined to celebrate however I could. A street market between the train station and the bus stop gave me an idea for dinner.

Perimeter security extended as far as the street so Cerebro saw me coming and opened the gate for me. Arms full of groceries, the door clicked open on its own as well.

"Hello?" I called. "Any one home?"

The lights were off and, looking at a clock, I realized it was Friday night. They must all be out somewhere.

I made myself at home clearing away the lunch dishes and getting a big pot of water boiling. My mom had the best recipe for spaghetti sauce and soon it was simmering over a low heat. I left a note nearby indicating what time it would be done incase anyone should return then went to test the capacity of the hot water in the girl's shower. With six months of grime and toil staining body and soul, you can bet I was in there a long time and I was pleased to discover the water heater could keep up with me.

Bobby was the first home. He'd been kicked out of the mall parking lot again for skateboarding. Drake has a keen awareness of water: in the air, cups on the counter, and other nearby sources as he requires it to perform his skill. He was only vaguely aware of the sound in the pipes connected to the girl's bath until he saw Kitty's forgotten bag on a chair in the kitchen. Wheels began turning in his head and a sly smile formed on his face.

"This is gonna be great!"


	3. Questions

A/N: Thank you for the encouragement to continue, Christy - Flare! I don't know how far I'd go with this without someone telling me how much they enjoy it.

~__-_-_-__~

I was soaking up steam after shaving my legs. It had taken me longer than I thought possible because I had many new scars, each with a memory attached to it. The water temperature dropped suddenly and I thought I'd finally run out of water until I saw ice crystals form on the faucet. The frost didn't stop there, it sprinted across the tiled floor toward me and I hurriedly wrapped my towel around me before making a run for it.

Thus began stage two of Bobby's prank. The whole floor of the bathroom was an ice rink. I took one step out of the stall and slid across the whole room, right out the door.

I stumbled to a stop in the hallway, barely keeping my towel around me, when Bobby threw a snowball I ducked. Angry and shivering, I fought to get my hair out of my face.

"What the HELL, Bobby? Do you know when the last time I GOT a HOT SHOWER was?!? OF course you DON'T! YOU haven't been living with the MORLOCKS for the last SIX MONTHS!!"

Drake chose to say the most insightful thing he could think of at the moment. "You're not Kitty."

"What was your first clue?! You stupid, thoughtless, imbecilic, HALF-WIT! Why the HELL would you do something like THAT to Kitty, ANYWAY? You could have seriously HURT somebody! I am GOING to hurt you!"

Unfortunately, my threats were useless. I was so freezing I couldn't form the words I was still screaming in my head. Ready for a fight, Bobby had become an ice-cube and continued to freeze the hallway. I was well on the way to becoming an ice cube, myself.

"Bobby! That's enough!"

It was at this moment I saw a second figure joining our ruckus. I recognized Wolverine from his stature but I wasn't expecting to see him out of uniform. He looked nothing like I'd imagined.

Bobby powered down and stared dumbfounded. "I-I thought it was Kitty…"

"If it was, you'd still be on head detail for the next week."

"Aw, Logan!"

"Care to make it TWO?" Logan stared at Bobby until he backed down. He cast a glance at me, shivering and blue. "Go get her a robe." Drake looked up in confusion. "Now! Before she looses her towel."

"Really?" Bobby's voice was a squelched inflection of curiosity and terror. He looked at me and I growled at him.

"Move your ass, Drake!"

Bobby took off as Wolverine, leader of the X-Men, stalked down the hall dialing a cell phone.

"Forge! I thought I told you to upgrade security! What part of that wasn't clear? I want to see you pronto." Logan left a message on the mech-head's voice-mail. He flicked the cell shut and motioned for me to follow him.

Bobby, contrite with guilt, brought me a robe and some fairly feminine fuzzy slippers I was sure he'd 'borrowed' from one of his team members. He watched me shiver into it before Logan stared him down.

"I'll go make some hot cocoa." And with that he was gone in a flash.

I settled down into a big armchair by the fireplace where Logan started a cheery flame. He lit a cigar and threw the match into the blaze. The warmth washed over me and I felt my eyes close for a moment. I must have dozed off because when I looked up there was a steaming mug of hot chocolate at hand. That first sip was heaven.

"Feel like talkin'?" Logan asked from an accompanying chair.

"Not especially."

"Well, you'll just have to make due. You military?"

"Not technically."

"Army Brat?"

"Sort of."

"Feel like giving me a direct answer?"

"If I must." I gave him a wry smile.

"You must." He stood and leaned at the mantle with his arms crossed. The tone of this change was very clear: this is an interrogation. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

"I'm Evelyn Parks. Just 'Evie.' Nice to meet you. And I think I was sent here. Doors were open when I walked up."

"Somebody sent you?" Logan tensed and his eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"I don't know. I just got an IM telling me I had a ticket and a place to go. I've been here before so I knew how to find the place."

"Did I hear you say you were with the Morlocks?"

"Just left 'em this morning."

"What were you doing with _the Morlocks_?"

"Helping."

"Helping?" Logan cocked his head. "Helping how?"

"Morlocks can't go out in public, right? I did stuff for them. Got them food when there was money, ran scouts for them when they needed to go up. You know, stuff."

"Really." His tone was disbelieving. He gave her an arch look as he appraised her. "Is that where you got those scars on your back?"

I frowned. "Some of them."

"How?"

"I'm clumsy." I gave him a smile and raised an eyebrow.

"You wanted to see me, Logan?" Forge popped his head in and caught sight of me. "Who's your friend?"

"Hi, I'm Evie." I gave him a wave.

"I want to know how she got in here." Logan pointed at me as he spoke to Forge.

Forge shrugged. "Beats me. I did all the upgrades. Nobody could have hacked it. Are you a psyke, shifter, or tech?" He directed the last question to me.

"Nope."

"There you have it. She couldn't have fooled any of the sensors."

"Well, then, how the hell did she walk up like she owned the place?"

"Excuse me?" The pair turned to me as I waved a hand. "I have a portable."

Forge straightened and paid attention. "A portable what?"

"I don't know, that's just what Charles called it. You made 'em, Forge. You oughta know."

"You mean the Mini-Cees?"

"'Many Seas'? What the heck are you talking about?"

"No, 'Mini-Cees', Miniature Cerebros." Forge enunciated clearly this time.

"But she's not a psyke."

"She wouldn't have to be if she had a Mini-Cee. Charles gave them to a few people he trusted so they could contact us and stay updated on our status. The Cees are handheld devices hooked up to the Cerebro mainframe, which controls security and everything. It's like a remote to the house, a cell phone, and a computer database all in one."

"I can't check my emails, though." I smiled behind my hand as I teased him.

Forge scoffed.

"Just sayin'."

"How many of those Cees did you make?" Logan adjusted his stance so he could stare Forge down. I felt he was more than adequately menacing and imposing. So did Forge.

"I made as many as the Professor wanted. He gave them to whomever he felt he could trust. Obviously, he knew something was coming because why would he have prepared sleeper agents? You have a problem, take it up with him."

Logan frowned as he stared off into space. He was a considerable threat even when he ignored everyone around him. I knew this was a man who is always dangerous. The things he'd faced in his already unbelievably long lifetime were terrible. Having seen the worst of man and mutant, he was now in a position to give them both a better world even if some if them didn't deserve it. But, even still, all those years couldn't prepare him to lead the X-men.

"Wait." I shook my head.

"What?" Forge was the only other person aware I'd spoken. Or so I thought.

"You said something. 'You have a problem, take it up with Charles'."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Never mind."

"Then why waste your breath and my time asking?" The snooty feminine voice brought all three pairs of eyes to the figure in the doorway. With what she was wearing, there was plenty of figure to see.

"What's she doing here?" I was on my feet before I realized it. The towel I'd been wearing under the robe slipped loose and fell. It landed in a little circle at my feet and I struggled to maintain my dignity. That wasn't hard considering the revulsion I felt toward Emma Frost, White Queen. Even though Forge and Logan stared at it for a second too long. "Logan. I shouldn't have to tell you who that is. What is she doing _here_?"

"It takes a telepath to operate Cerebro." Ms. Frost sneered down her fake nose and looked me up and down. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

I smirked. "What's the matter, telepath? Can't read me?" I felt her subtle probing intensify into a hammering insistence to be admitted into my thoughts. A headache began to form. "Stop it!"

She frowned and narrowed her eyes at me. "Who are you?" She demanded almost petulantly.

"We've been trying to figure that out." Logan shrugged.

"I told you who I am and how I got here. What else do you need?"

"Frost, can you get a read on her?"

"Oh, no! She's not doing that again." I waved my hands in useless protection of my head. "Jean made it so only her and Xavier could read me and that's the way I want to keep it!"

Frosts ears perked up. "Really? Jean did that to you? When?"

"Before this place went to hell on heels."

Logan stepped between Frost and me. "When?"

"Before I came here the first time. I was going to be a teacher here."

"A teacher!" Logan shook his head. "Running with the Morlocks?"

"The Morlocks?" Forge and Frost cried in chorus.

I peeked around Logan to see Frost's surprised face. Telepaths don't get surprised often. She didn't take it well.

"You really shouldn't have her around. Aren't you accepting students soon? No teenage boy will be able to get any schoolwork done with her looking like that, no man for that matter. That's the way she likes it."

"I can _hear_ you." Frost was seething.

"Good to know you can actually use your ears!" I raised my voice and enunciated very clearly.

Forge snickered and got a baleful look from Ms. Frost.

"That's it." Logan grabbed my arm and began towing me out of the room. "We're gonna go have a chat with Chuck."

"Chuck? Who's Chuck?"


	4. Doubts

It was a conscious effort to breathe. My mind was blank with the shock of seeing 'Chuck' in his current condition. It just didn't make sense. He was Charles Xavier, for frak sake. I could almost feel the tubes and wires tangling over and through the… _husk_ that had once housed the most powerful mind I've ever met. Charles, Jean, and I had done the 'Vulcan mind meld' so I was more connected to their consciousnesses than I'd ever been with anyone.

But then he was there again. A tickle at the base of my skull and Logan and I were standing in that blank white room with Charles. He'd had a lot to say and very little time. Some of it was just feelings: pride, affection, amusement, concern, fear. Hope. There was a moment when Logan froze and was silent in a pause. It didn't make sense until my turn. I could feel a few things like a physical touch, hand on my shoulder. Some things were words.

"Time certainly has changed us."

"What do you mean? I don't understand. How are you—"

"I'm twenty years into the future. Approximately. The blast put me in a coma and I've woken to find the world a horrible and more unforgiving place. A nightmare that cannot be escaped."

"Talk about getting knocked into next week." My shock overtook my senses.

Charles laughed. "Quite right. You certainly have a way of putting things in a humorous light. You have quite a treasure on your hands, Logan."

"I just want to know if I can trust her. And why she's here."

Xavier looked at me for a moment and I could feel a brush of presence. "As ever, Evie is a bright light of hope and empathy capable of intense loyalty. As to why she's suddenly appeared, it probably has a great deal to do with the simple fact that she has no where else to go for the time being."

Embarrassed by the shining compliment, I wondered if I was truly worthy of it. 'Intense loyalty' seemed a bit off the mark given my desertion of my family and what good was that if you were so completely useless as me?

Wolverine inhaled to say something but suddenly froze.

"Don't doubt yourself, Evie. I don't." Charles placed a hand on my shoulder and, even though it was only in my head, I could swear it was real.

"I want to help but this just seems so far beyond me. I'm not anybody special."

"That is where we differ. You have the ability to be a rock to them. That's why I brought you here in the first place. We cannot move toward any kind of future we can be proud of if we find ourselves acting on the same mindset as those who would stand against us."

"So it is my very 'unspecial' nature that will provide an element the team needs? I get to be a mascot? Fodder to fill an equal opportunity position? A martyr to inspire?"

Xavier smiled at the turn of phrase but shook his head. " I can see this will take some time for you to adjust to."

I took a deep breath. "I'll try."

He smiled at me. "So sorry to cause you any concern with my… sudden vacation." He chuckled. "We're working on making things better for everyone." I could see he meant the whole world, our allies and our enemies. "I do believe you are owed some back pay and perhaps a bonus for services rendered to our allies. Logan will see to the details."

The moment he mentioned Logan, I remembered the spat with Frost. "We need to get her out of here. The likelihood of her betraying us is over eighty percent. The Destiny variations—"

"The Destiny Diaries are what could happen, not what must. Nor are they a complete record of every variation of alternate realities or future events. The ones in Cerebro's mainframe relate to a specific series of events I was examining before I was… called away on holiday."

"But they're constantly being updated, added to, revised. Diaries? You mean it's a person, not a probability engine?"

"If Destiny is continuing to add to the files, it may be because they relate to the situation I was monitoring or because it is necessary for someone to read them. Destiny serves no one. She is an observer but not an impartial one. She has affected numerous situations, acting on some purpose I can't divine."

"And Logan? I need to tell him about Destiny. That's a valuable source of information we could be using to change the future you're stuck in."

"I will leave that up to your discretion. But remember Destiny has her own motivations for sharing that information. Unless you know the exact reasons why, you can't be sure you're not playing into some greater disaster. Be on your guard."

And that was it. A farewell and poof, we're back in the present. The heart monitor beeped out its steady rhythm and the hiss of air pumped into lungs.

"Welcome to the team, Teach." Logan said and it sounded far away.

I flopped down on a fluffy surface and stared up at the wall. This was my room now, a teacher's suite. Logan was cool with my presence here. That was nice. But we had a possible traitor in our midst, one who had others convinced that she was exactly what she said she was.

With a steady breath, I looked up at Logan. He'd waited for me to muddle through the shock. Patiently, he'd stared out the window, knowing I'd need the company and an ear once I surfaced.

"I don't think I have to tell you to keep your guard up with Frost. And Scott."

He chuckled and turned to look at me. "No, you don't."

"Just the same, two pairs of eyes are better than one." I stood and turned to look out the window with Logan. "There's something you should know."

He leaned on the window seat and waited.

"First, there's a series of files on the Cerebro network you need to know about. The Destiny Diaries. They contain massive amounts of information about _everyone_ and _everything_. Alternate timelines, variations, futures that could come to pass and who exactly is going to have a hand in shaping them. I figure there must be something in there we can use to help Charles. A woman named Destiny, a free agent Charles worked with at least once in the past, writes the files. Maybe we should find her and ask her why she's uploading detailed timelines onto our network."

Logan nodded.

"Maybe you should have Forge make you a Mini-Cee of your own."

"He's already working on the 2.0." He shrugged a shoulder. "Mine's going to be able to check emails and set the timer on the coffee maker."

I laughed and shook my head. "Oh, just rub it in. That's mature. I guess once you hit a hundred-fifty years old you start regressing to childhood."

"What?"

"Could be dementia, old man. Alzheimers. Did you remember to take your pills?" I chuckled and looked up at him, but the shock on his face froze my smile. "You don't remember?"

Logan sat down on the window seat. It was apparently his turn to be in shock.

I slumped into the seat. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize… the Destiny files are very detailed. It's hard for me to separate what I know from what's actually happened in our timeline."

"So it's got some of me on there?"

"A lot. Charles says not all of it's true. Even if you read through it all, it might not trigger anything. It could just sound like a bunch of made up stories."

"I know a bit. Enough to know if the facts tie together right."

"There's one other thing you should know." I could feel my fists clenching but I couldn't relax them. "My father is a commander for the MRDs. He's helped shaped them: their policies, protocols, and he's even campaigned for funding. My whole family… They're very… active anti-mutant."

Logan sat back a moment, considering his response to that. "We can't help who are family is, kid." I took a moment to truly realize how true that was in Logan's case. Whether Sabertooth was Logan's brother or father, depending on the timeline, there was no doubt they were very closely tied together.

"If it was known that I was here, it would make him look bad. He'd… attempt to rectify the problem."

He nodded. "We'll deal with that when we come to it. But, right now, I hear someone's made dinner."

I grinned. "Pasta. I can't wait to hear what Frost is going to say about carbs."


End file.
